Slytherin's Touch

Chapter 11: The Crown

Italic is French

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One hour

One bloody hour, that was how long Harley stood there with her arms spread as the dressmaker continuously poked and prodded her whilst taking her measurement on a floating parchment. She was tired, so tired from her feet aching, and was hungry too after not eating anything earlier that day.

She looks at Pansy and groans. "How much longer?"

Pansy, not even bothering to hide her laugh, giggles as she answers her. "Just a few more minutes, Potter"

Harley barely resisted the urge to snap at her that this was the fifth time she said that when finally Madame Belle pulls takes a step back. "And finished" Finally allowing Harley to step down from the stool she stood on for hours.

She waves away her tools before turning to face Pansy "Now what about you Ms. Parkinson, which goddess do you want to be?"

Pansy hums, "Harley, do you mind calling Millicent and Daphne in for me?"

Harley nods, and without so much as goodbye, leaves the room to find the other Slytherins. "Daphne, Millicent, Pansy wants you inside"

The two returned the respective cloaks in their hands its hangar and quickly enters the room where Pansy was checking out a piece of fabric. "Do what do you think?"

Millicent squints her eyes, looking the velvety fabric up and down. "It looks more red than black to me"

Daphne nods her head in agreement before moving her gaze to the dressmaker. "Do you perhaps have another color, Madame Belle? Something more of a Midnight Black maybe"

Madame Belle pursed her lips before snapping her fingers and with a wave of her wand, a roll of fabric comes forward from her stack. "What about this one?"

Meanwhile outside as Pansy continues to inspect the roll of fabric, Harley steps out of the shop being lured out by her boredom and hunger. As she takes a step into the busy streets, she was immediately swept away by the strong current of witches and wizards walking by.

By the time she was finally able to free herself from the flow of people, Harley was already surrounded by unfamiliar buildings on an unfamiliar street. She sighs, resisting the urge to curse out loud at her luck. Instead, she decides to approach a French witch. "Excuse me"

The woman gives her a look, "What?"

"Can you speak English?"

The woman frowns at her, narrowing her eyes. "I don't understand what you're saying, girl, what?"

Harley groans, "Never mind" and walks away.

The French witch huffs at her rudeness and continues with her day. "Uncultured, British Swine"

Harley cranes her head up and squints her eyes to get a better look at the french writing on the street sign. "Okay, finding a shop that looks exactly the same as every other shop, how hard could it be?"

Turns out it was very hard.

Harley sat on the sidewalk feeling tired, pissed, and above all hungry. She's spent three hours helplessly wandering the streets of Lieu de luxe and still, she's had no luck finding the shop. This day was not her day.

Pushing herself up, Harley sighed as she prepared herself to begin another tireless walk but then, someone bumps into her. A surprised sound escapes her and she falls to the ground.